


Collected Dresden Files Prompt Fills

by juniperberry



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Dresden Files Kink Meme, Multi, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:07:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28161408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juniperberry/pseuds/juniperberry
Summary: What it says on the tin.
Relationships: Anastasia Luccio/Karrin Murphy
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	1. In Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karrin is getting married.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a small collection of prompt-fills I did for the Dresden Files Kink Meme circa 2011-2012, right before I went back to school and put fandom on hold for a good seven years.

In Celebration

Karrin pinned up her hair with plain, no-nonsense hairpins. Harry fluttered about the dressing room behind her, looking for something to make himself useful.

"You're the best man, Dresden," she said tersely. "All you have to do is stand there and hand me the ring at the appropriate time. I don't expect you to curl my hair."

Harry fidgeted. "I know. But I just--I mean--I haven't been to a lot of weddings, Murphy."

Karrin pinned up the last lock of her hair. "I haven't, either. Relax. It's not like you're the one getting married."

Harry blanched a little. Karrin sighed.

"It's a small ceremony, Dresden. Man up." She shimmied a little, getting her dress to sit right on her shoulders. "And if you tell me I should wear a tux again, I'll punch you."

Harry stifled a grin. "Well," he said, "it would look, uh...different."

Karrin snorted. "Stasia and I both settled on dresses. At least be grateful we didn't have the budget for real bridal dresses, or those for bridesmaids." She looked him up and down. "The material for your skirt would've bankrupted us long before the rest of it."

Harry coughed into his fist, and sidled her a look that asked if she would've really done that. Karrin met it with her usual unperturable look. Harry grinned.

"Well, Ms. Murphy. Are you ready to be Mrs. Murphy-Luccio?"

Karrin handed him a long pin decorated with a fall of silk wisteria flowers. "I don't know, Mr. Dresden," she said, as he tucked it into her hair. "But I'm ready to find out."


	2. Long-Lost Sibling

I hadn't ever really looked around at the photos at the Carpenter house--it sort of makes me ache a bit. But I was waiting for Michael to arrive home, Molly was out with friends, and all of the other kids were at school, or baseball practice, or something wholesome and homey like that. 

Despite the truce between Charity and myself, I didn't want to bother her by loitering in the kitchen while she did the prep work for dinner. (I had offered to help, but she'd given me such a look of disbelief that I'd slunk away. I'm not proud.)

So I loitered in the living room and went over the photographs.

Most of them were of the kids--Molly, all of five years old, with pigtails; Daniel, eyes big behind a geeky pair of glasses and a gap between his teeth; Hope, clutching a small stuffed rabbit; little Harry, swathed in hospital baby blankets. Good kids, all of 'em.

A few were of Charity and Michael, beaming. Or smiling. Or just generally being in love.

An older photograph sat behind the others. I plucked it up easily--being tall gives me a different perspective on the world, what can I say--and looked at it more closely.

It felt like a gut punch when the pretty, dark-haired woman finally registered.

I drifted back to the kitchen, stunned, and managed not to fall over anything. I could barely take my eyes off the photograph.

"Charity," I said as I came into the kitchen. My voice was hoarse. She turned to look at me, a frown crossing her face.

I held up the photo. "W--who is this?"

Something in my voice--I don't know what--must have tipped her off. She brushed the flour off her hands and gently took the photograph from me.

"My birth mother," she said. "She gave me up for adoption a few days after I was born. I don't know her name--this was the only thing tucked into the blanket when she left me at the church."

I ran a hand through my hair and dug out my wallet. It's not really the safest place for it, but Murphy had made me a few copies, and I liked to keep one with me when I could.

I pulled out a photo, taken maybe less than ten years after the one she held, and gave it to her.

"My mom and dad," I said. My voice was rough. "Mom died when I was born. And I know she had another son."

Charity took the old photo and stared at it for a long time.

"Well," she said at last, her voice faint. "It's good that you're staying for dinner."


	3. Reunited Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Thomas grew up with Harry, instead of his father's family.

1.

Malcolm Dresden was pretty nice for a kidnapper. Thomas found that less disturbing than maybe he should have--but it was nice to have someone treat him like a son and not a rival. He was only ten; it wasn't like he would be challenging him for the right to drive anytime soon.

The fact that Thomas got a little brother certainly didn't hurt.

2\. 

Thomas looked the cop up and down. "What's the problem?"

"Where are the two of you going?"

Thomas gave him a broad, sweet smile. "I'm just taking my little brother out for a ride, that's all. He was driving Mom and Dad nuts in the house."

"It's boring there," Harry chimed in, right on cue, and Thomas gave him a grin. 

"Was I going too fast?" Thomas asked, suddenly worried. He didn't have to fake that, thank God, but still....

"A little," the officer said. His face was impassive. "Tell you what, you keep the driving to the speed limit and I'll let you go with a warning, got it?"

"Got it," Thomas said, relieved, and he waited until the cop was on his motorcycle and out of sight before he relaxed back into the seat. "Speed limits. Gotta remember the speed limits."

"I can't wait until I can drive," Harry groused. "I wouldn't get pulled over every other day."

"I'm just pretty enough to be worth noticing, twerp," Thomas snapped back. "You'd get noticed for being a weed."

"I'm not a weed," Harry sneered. "You're just a big beanpole. You stick out of the car."

"Only 'cause it's small, and you'll do the same thing when you're a full-grown twerp."

"Buttface."

"Shrimp."

Harry grinned and lost it, chuckling and rolling his eyes, and Thomas let out a tense breath.

"Okay. Where to, navigator?"

"Um." Harry pulled out a map. "We're pretty close to Kansas City."

"Cities are good," Thomas said, as he put the car in gear and pulled out onto the road. They'd driven four or five miles before Harry spoke up.

"Hey, Thomas?"

"Yeah?"

"When you're eighteen, we can settle down somewhere, right?"

Thomas reached across the front seat and gave Harry's hair a quick tousle. "Sure thing. The government won't question my custody, then. And the Raiths won't be looking for me. So yeah. We will."

3.

Given what Thomas remembered of their mother, it wasn't a surprise that Harry showed a talent for magic. Finding someone to train him properly, though, that had been difficult. 

But this McCoy guy was all right. He'd taken one look at Thomas and gave him a quick warning against sex before true love, but Malcolm Dresden had given Thomas that speech when he was ten, so it didn't bear repeating. And McCoy was great with Harry.

Missouri wasn't Thomas's favorite state, but for his little brother he could settle there for a while.

4.

Only Harry, Thomas reflected, would get himself caught up with a mobster two months after opening his own PI business.

"Oh, little brother," he said, as he shook his head, "only you. I swear, only you. How do you do it?"

Harry threw a paperback at his head, and Thomas ducked it easily. 

"When's the wedding?" Harry asked. He was honestly too tall, Thomas thought--should've fed him more fries and pizza and fewer apples and milk pints. 

"Next Tuesday. If you miss because your mobster boyfriend has a crisis, I'll never let you live it down."

"I don't have a mobster boyfriend, Thomas. Marcone's a creepy stalker, that's all."

"Uh-huh, whatever," Thomas said, and Harry threw another paperback. Thomas caught it and chucked it right back, and a smile spread across his face.


	4. Uncle Harry in Fact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry becomes the legal guardian of the Carpenter kids, and he needs a babysitter.

God damn it.

Oh, I hardly ever swear out loud now--especially like that--but inside? Inside I'm a sailor, and it's usually because of something like this.

Molly must have noticed the look on my face. "Harry, what is it?"

I grimaced. "Something magical and nasty," I said. "I'll have to call a babysitter. It's likely going to take all night."

Molly pouted. Her brand-spanking new lip ring jutted out, shining in the light. "I can babysit, I'm fifteen--"

"With six younger siblings and a pair of friends waiting for you at the end of the block," I finished. Hell's bells, but Molly was a handful. "No. You're staying home tonight, finishing your homework, and I'll call someone to come over while I deal with this."

Molly glared almost straight at me and pounded her way up to her room. Daniel--newly fourteen, gangly, and a great deal more serious than his sister--peered at me from over his glasses.

"Do you have to go out?"

I swore internally again, a true blue streak. Michael and Charity were some of the best souls I've ever met, but what they were thinking when they left their kids to me I will never know. 

"I'm going to be fine, Danny," I said. All of the kids were still kind of jittery after the accident--they'd never had someone ripped away from them so completely, especially not their own parents. Every single one of them were still dealing with that.

"I'll call Father Forthill," he said. I nodded and gave him a smile. Matthew--twelve, in love with soccer--piped up.

"I want pizza tonight," he said. I thought back--I'm not much of a cook, but with seven kids around, I've had to learn fast. The last several days had been nothing but good healthy food, and I could spring for pizza.

"Sure thing," I said, even as Daniel put the phone down.

"Father Forthill is out," he said. "All I got was the machine."

Damn. "I'll start calling around," I said, and settled down to do just that. From the alcove that held the phone I could see the younger kids piling on Mouse, who took it all with doggy good grace.

So I dialed. And dialed, and dialed--not because I'd killed the phone (though it was close), but because Thomas was out. And Murphy was working. And the Alphas were either out, patrolling, or studying for finals.

Damn it. I didn't have a lot of people I'd trust with the kids, and my list was incredibly short. 

I had to struggle with it, but I swallowed my pride and dialed one more number. It picked up on the second ring.

"Marcone," said a crisp voice. I groaned internally.

"Hey, John," I said, as I forced a bright, cheerful tone into my voice. "How'd you like to owe me a favor?"


End file.
